been a brightness in her face, a smile on her lips. She had always chattered to him about anything and everything.
He thought about three smashed gates and the letters Geraint had written and sent to local landowners and to various people in England. He thought about the odds against success and the odds in favor of capture and punishment. There were constables actually posted at Tegfan—there at Geraint’s invitation. Aled’s childhood admiration for his friend had returned and doubled in force over the last couple of weeks. He was as daring as ever, but now there was a sense of purpose and a sense of responsibility to temper the daring. Geraint was no longer reckless. Except perhaps where Marged was concerned. Aled knew they had ridden off home together on both gate-breaking nights. But Geraint had fixed his aristocratic blue stare on his friend when Aled had suggested to him that it was perhaps unwise.
Aled thought again about what they had done and what there was still to do—all the uncertainties and all the dangers. And for that he had given up this. He turned his head to look at the woman he had loved with single-minded devotion for six years. Sometimes it seemed a poor exchange.
“You are stepping out with Harley, Ceris?” he asked. He had not meant to ask the question. He knew the answer but did not want to hear it from her.
“Yes,” she said.
He felt deeply wounded, as if he were hearing it for the first time. But he could not leave it alone.
“You care for him?” he asked.
“Yes.” There was a dullness to her voice—so unlike Ceris.
“And he is good to you?” He did not want to know how good Harley was to Ceris, God damn his soul to hell.
“Yes,” she said. He thought their poor stab at conversation was at an end, but she continued after a short silence. “He is courting me.”
Well, he had invited it. He should not have asked the first question. Courting was rather more serious than stepping out. Courting was a preliminary to a marriage offer and to marriage itself.
He wanted to say something. He wanted to tell her that he wished for her happiness. Or that he was glad she was getting on with her life. Or that he was pleased she had chosen a man who would be able to provide well for her. Or that he envied Harley. But there were no words he could force past his lips.
They had reached the end of the lane leading up to her father’s house. It was the place where he had always kissed her whenever he was not going to go into the house with her. They both stopped walking, though he had expected her to keep on going.
“Aled.” She looked up into his eyes—the sparkle in her own was all gone, leaving only sadness and beauty behind. “Marged says that R-Rebecca is a good and a compassionate leader, if those qualities can belong to a man who also destroys property. But I can see that she is at least partly right. Was it his idea to compensate the gatekeepers who lose their homes and jobs? And to help the poor? Was it his idea to help Marged and Waldo Parry, both at the same time?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “It was all his idea, Ceris. It is not something that is part of the usual role of Rebecca.”
“I know,” she said. “And you are his right-hand man, his Charlotte. Did you volunteer to call on Marged?”
“He asked me,” he said, “and I agreed.” He smiled briefly. “I did not expect it to be as easy as it was. Marged is about as proud as it is possible for a woman to be.”
“Aled,” she said, “perhaps I have done your cause some injustice. Perhaps it is doing some good. If only it were not also doing a lot of evil.” She sighed.
Hope had revived painfully in him for a moment. But there was no hope. Besides, another man was courting her.
“I must go and help Mam with the wash,” she said.
He nodded and smiled at her and turned away. But when he had taken several steps down the path and assumed that she was on her way to the house, her voice stopped him again.
“Aled,” she called.
He turned and looked at her. Her unhappy eyes had grown luminous.
“Be careful, car—” she said. She lifted her shoulders and tightened her hold on her shawl. “Be careful.”
Cariad. She was going to force